Blood, Sweat and Tears
by pugswanthugs
Summary: An international fighter is ill, and Cuddy brings her personal life into the case. Will this end up killing him, or saving him from something greater? Rated T just cause... you know, it's House. Previously, "A Tragic Past"
1. Prologue

**-READ THIS! - This is just a little episode I put together. Imagine if Cuddy didn't adopt a baby, but an older kid. An _international_ older kid. An international older kid _with a tragic past. _I think that would probably be a pretty cool plot. To all Russian readers, I mean NO disrespect, as I am from Russia. P.S. I don't know anything about fights, so if I mix people up, sorry. Google can't always be right. Finally, anybody likes this story, feel free to check out my other story; I'll post a link in the bottom along with the DISCLAIMER. And to all of my old fans, thanks for sticking with me, I have had trouble thinking of ideas for TRON, so I thought this would help me get my brainstorming mojo back.**

**Fear of Needles?**

_Wham! _The international fighter grunted as he was thrown to the ground. The crowd booed him as he struggled to get to his feet. _No pain,_ he thought determinedly. Tonight he was up against a pro, Anderson Silva. He got to his feet as quickly as possible. His vision began to go fuzzy, but he shook the thought off with the same thought. _No pain, no pain._ He mentally repeated this over and over. His vision went from fuzzed to Technicolor and blurred. He couldn't let the world down. For all of his sixteen years, he'd been waiting for this fight. His homeland was counting on him. He felt his breathing slow, but he persisted. _Wham! _He right- hooked Silva forcing him to tap out, giving him the game. The crowd cheered, but everything was going black. The last thing he could remember was falling to the ground.

8 HOURS LATER

_Bing! _Went the elevator as diagnostician Gregory House stepped out heading to his office. Right as he was stepping out of the elevator, Lisa Cuddy joined him.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Good morning to you, too." She asked, unscathed by his remark. "Sixteen year old MMA fighter, no history of drugs or alcohol, Russian, and he speaks little english. The only thing he can say is 'No translatir'. I think that means 'No translation' in English." She reported, handing him on the file. "But personally, I think he's more twelve by the looks of him." House didn't answer, so she added, "And he has Trypanophobia."

"Hmm. Fear of needles. This could be a major problem. Let's see… How should I treat a big strong MMA champion if he is afraid of a little needle?" he asked sarcastically.

"See if you can get a teammate to help out. I think one of Dr. Hadley may know some Russian." She suggested. "And please don't cause any international lawsuits, that would give me a heart attack." she added.

10 MINUTES LATER [ IN HOUSE'S OFFICE ]

"Today, my little gremlins, we have a most interesting case." House said drammatically, "And what this most interesting case is, is that we have a MMA figher, some say sixteen, some say twelve, years old with no history of drugs, as far as we know. Does anyone-" he shot a glance at Thirteen [Dr. Hadley] "Know any Russian?"

"Yeah, I took a course on it in high school and-" she just stopped as House [being house as usual] just went on.

"Go talk to the patient, find his name, any hereditary disease inheritance, other vitals, yadda yadda yadda." h

He ordered. Thirteen left immediately, knowing any hesitation would cause unscrupulous judgement [perhaps about her disease?] from her boss.

PATIENT'S ROOM [5 MINUTES LATER] (THIRTEEN'S POINT OF VIEW)

_God, he's such a pig, _I thought as I made my way to the patient's room. _Why is the hell is he always like that? Oh well, I guess. House is just that kind of person, stubborn, rude, and unmerciful to almost everyone._ I looked at the room number written on my hand. _302, Floor 4. 299... 300... 301... here, 302._

I entered the room and approached the patient. He was about... hmm, five foot 7, with green eyes and hair that looked suspicously Gothic- cut spiky hanging across his face at an angle- about shoulder length. _Interesting look, kind of, as he looked kind of like a vampire- wait, what the hell? Since when did I know about the Twilight Series- Saga? Whatever Twilight thingy? Oh, well, he still reminds me of a vampire. Hmm... Greetings, uhhh... crap this isn't as hard as I remember Russian being. Oh yeah!_

Thirteen smiled as she said, "Privet!." With no luck, however, the patient just growled and gave her a menacing look that clearly meant, "Back off, or you'll be sorry."

She tried not to let her face show a single sign of fear. She was pretty sure having no fears were a large part of Russian values, and repeated, "Privet!"

With the same response, she went on saying, "Govorite li vy po angliyski?" This meant, 'Do you speak English?'. John Doe just stared at her coldly and said slowly, "No Englesh."

Thirteen mentally sighed. This indeed, would be a long day.

**Thanks for reading, once again. **

***DISCLAIMER* I DO NOT OWN HOUSE M.D. OR ANYTHING RELATED TO IT, NOR DO I OWN TWILIGHT OR MMA.**

**ps: Please comment, but don't be too mean, constructive criticism is great, but nothing mean. Thanks!**

**~pugswanthugs~**


	2. The Plot Thickens

Thirteen tried to think of anything to find out about the patient. _Well, he has Trypanophobia, so I should see what happens if I take out a syringe…_

The doctor smiled as she took out a syringe. Immediately she regretted it. The child sprang up immediately, shouting something Thirteen didn't focus on translating. She knew it was something along the lines of _Hey!_ Or _Get away from me_. She tried to put the syringe away, but the patient was too fast. He did a spot-on roundhouse kick on her wrist, sending the needle flying towards the door.

The patient ripped the IV's from his arms. Blood was dripping on the ground where his hands were. Thirteen stumbled backwards, hands up to defend herself. By now nurses were coming in, frantic to stop the crazed child from destroying the hospital. She held her hands out in apology, but obviously the teenager wasn't accepting. He easily lifted the cart holding his lunch and chucked it at the young doctor. It hit her face. She tasted blood as it trickled from to her nose, her lips, inside her mouth, down her face. She yelled at the nurses to get away from the psychotic patient, but it all came out choked and demented.

By now the patient was running down the hall. _Oh, God. _Thirteen thought. _This will be a nightmare._ She watched as the young teen easily took out three startled doctors trying to restrain him with a few swift movements. This child was obviously dangerous, and he had to be restrained. He was coming up by Cuddy's office. The dean of medicine stepped out, bewildered by this patient's behaviour. She just had time to jump back as the child did a long, sweeping kick to his right.

She shouted, "Stop! What are you doing?" As Thirteen stumbled closer to the encounter she saw what was true fear simply radiating from the patient.

"They try to kill me with needle!" he choked out.

"They aren't going to hurt you. They're doctors, not killers. Now stop this instant and get back to your room." She ordered. She sounded more like a mother than a dean of medicine now. But this did not stop the frightened adolescent from pressing onward. He was reaching the drop, going into the hospital's main lobby. He was surrounded by doctors now. He smiled, most deviously, and dropped from the ledge.

Cuddy just had enough time to see him land on a counter. He kept running. Feet from the door, the patient tripped. As Thirteen reached the edge of the ledge to see what had stopped the frantic patient from escaping, she saw a cane. _House._ She was almost certain everyone else thought the same thing. As the seasoned doctor walked up to retrieve his cane, he said to the crowd, "Nice throw, eh?"

**Wow, this was a fun chapter to write! It was also kinda hard, though, as I had to keep the plot going… oh well. I think it's good now…. So, read, review, enjoy! Again, please no hateful comments, keep those to yourselves. Any tips? Leave a comment. And, check out my other stories on my profile page, and answer my polls. Bye, and thanks!**

**~pugswanthugs~**


	3. Memories

Memories

PATIENT'S POV [TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, OF COURSE]

Lights blared, and I heard the crunch as the car collided with the building. It seemed to go in slow motion, as I watched my parents die. Their horrified faces would still give me nightmares, them pushing me out of the way and their bodies… ripped in two by the sheer force of the bent BMW. We used to be wealthy, happy…. untroubled by the matters of even getting a meal. Then that fateful night came along. Mother and Father were arguing over something… I think it was about dinner. How petty we are, to argue over having a fancy steak, or a Western burger, when you are lucky to have food at all. They never even saw that truck come from our right side. Green eyes, yes. Mother, she had the most beautiful eyes… like the sea. I remember screaming as I saw the last light leave their eyes as the metal of the car ripped their bodies apart…

_He's crashing! We need a cart in here! Foreman, where's those paddles?_

The next week I was in the St. Petersburg Home for Boys. All those luxuries I had, gone. We were required to have an occupation to help fund that… hellhole. After three years of being a paperboy one night I was walking home and a group of rich boys surrounded me.

_Ooh, beggar boy's all alone? Let's have some fun, then._ The uncouth barbarians growled as they surrounded me. I thought I was done until he came. They had me cornered, a mile from where the encounter had escalated. They had just landed a single blow when I heard a cry. I saw someone, yanking the bullies away from me. He held out a hand, and I took it without hesitation. I knew this was a friend. Alexi…. was a good man. He taught me how to fight. Even though he had a family he still took me in, and acted as a father to me. He told me that those people who attacked me were his old students. They had abandoned him when he had no more to teach them. He eventually decided that I was capable to fight on my own, and became my proffesional coach.

_Charging- clear! Nothing's working, 13. Charging- clear! He's stable, for now. _

Then, a month into my professional career of fighting, Alexi started getting strange calls. Some would send threats, others would just be the faint sound of someone breathing. Then the authorities called. Alexi was dead.

_He's crashing again! Get the paddles! Foreman, now!_

Those… _mudaks_… had shot him in the head, execution style. A slap in the face to Alexi, his family, and all of the Motherland. Things went uphill from there. Coaches reached out to me, for one knowing I was a skilled athlete, and for two the trauma I had recently faced. My career skyrocketed. In no time I had been decided to fight in the larger leagues, even though I was thirteen. When fighting an American, someone named Silva, I remember blacking out.

_Charging, clear! Charging, clear! CHARGING, CLEAR! God, he's stable._

Then I woke up in a strange place, and everything after was a blur.


	4. Ideas

An Idea, Good or Bad, That Cuddy Would Pursue No Matter What

_Cuddy, you're being insane. That would never work. He wouldn't even consent to it, well wait; I bet he's twelve, so he couldn't consent. Krap he needs a Visa. Let's get the paperwork for that now._ A half hour later Cuddy had a Visa listed under this patient, whose name was still unknown. She just listed him as Joe. Then she got back to her train of thought.

_Would it work? I bet it could. It would be a real challenge, but still, that's good, if he is mental, then I'm a good match, I'm a doctor, I can get him help without even lifting a finger, as I practically own the hospital. I should look into it… _ Cuddy smiled to herself as she got into her car, off to the Bureau of International Children Affairs, less than an hour drive from the hospital.

Thirteen scowled at the Dean of Medicine, already knowing what was in mind for her. She had to intervene before she would sign this kid away to a horrible life of imprisonment in a rubber room.


	5. A Failure to Intervene

Thirteen wasn't sure she'd still have her job tomorrow, but she had to do this. Cuddy could not take in that patient no matter how hard she tried. The kid would be submitted to a life full of freaking needles, and he had a fear involved needles, therefore torturing him. She took a deep breath and entered Cuddy's office.

Cuddy was finishing a phone call. "…Yes, yes. We don't know his age, but- sure I'll call you back." She hung up and turned to Thirteen. "Dr. Hadley, what can I help you with?" Thirteen took another deep breath and said,

"I know what you have in mind for this new patient, and it just won't work."

Cuddy looked surprised, and said, "I'm not sure you understand, this would benefit the patient. His phobia-" Thirteen finished the sentence for her.

"Would torment him with a doctor in his family. All we do is practically work with needles. Imagine what he would do if you even tried to get him help. He would set the freaking house on fire!" Thirteen gave this a minute to sink in, and then added, "and how are you going to teach him English in a week before he enrolls in school?"

Cuddy shot back, " I could have things arranged that he would have more time to figure it out, unlike _some people I know_ would. Now, if you excuse me, I have things to arrange. Good day, Dr. Hadley. You are dismissed."

Thirteen silently walked out of Cuddy's office, when she bumped into House. He said to her, "Go to the patient's office and see if you can get something, at least his name." and continued his way to Cuddy's office without a word. He looked angry.

Thirteen listened to House and headed to the patient's ward. What she saw shocked her beyond words.

**Ha ha! You have a cliffhanger! Sux for you! Oh, I'll save you with another chapter… possibly in an hour? Enjoy hanging for your life until I save you!**

**~pugswanthugs~**


	6. Horrible Hospitality

Before me was the patient, struggling against the handcuffs that bound him to the bed, swearing vigorously in Russian. He had fresh cuts on both arms, and his nose was bleeding. I rushed over to the nurses' table and asked, "What have you done to patient 304?" The nurse answered, "Sedatives weren't working. Neither were tranquilizers, sleeping pills, or morphine, so the head nurse had us restrain him with handcuffs."

"Yeah, did you also hit, cut, and abuse him, too?" I asked angrily. "Now, give me the keys to the handcuffs before I have your ass fired."

"Y-yes, Doctor Hadley." The startled nurse stuttered. She unlatched the keys from a drawer and handed them over to me. I half ran to the patient's room, whom I still had not gotten a name out of, and cautiously approached him. I said, "I won't hurt you, see? I'm gonna get those cuffs off of you, then I'll look at the cuts and your nose, okay? I promise that's all I will do." In Russian. He slowly nodded his head, and I undid the handcuffs.

He held out his arms for me to examine. Jesus, what did those nurses do to him? It seemed like they had hit him several times with a bullwhip. I went over to the drawer and slowly took out antiseptic and bandages, making sure the patient could see them so he wouldn't panic. He seemed calm enough, though. I rubbed the dirt and blood off of the scrapes before bandaging them.

Then I said in Russian, "Can I see your nose, please? It may be broken." Once again, the patient nodded. Sure enough it was fractured in three spots, and worse it wouldn't stop bleeding. I told him "I am going to have to snap your nose back in place. It's going to hurt but if I don't, you'll slowly bleed to death, okay?" in Russian. After a moment, he braced himself and nodded. "Raz, dva, tree!" and I snapped his nose into place. He didn't yell, actually, he didn't do much at all. I guess being in the MMA this happened a lot.

**ATTENTION THIS IS AN AUTHOR'S NOTE THE FOLLOWING CONVERSATION IS IN RUSSIAN BUT I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE TRANSLATING IT ALL BECAUSE ONE PHRASE TAKES AN HOUR TO FIND, SO I JUST PUT IT IN ENGLISH.**

After he was cleaned up, I figured he trusted me enough to talk to him.

I asked him, "What is your name?" The kid finally answered after what seemed an eternity he answered, "Sergei."

"It's nice to meet you, Sergei. My name is Dr. Hadley, and I'm here to help you get better. Before we do anything, I have to see if I can help you with your phobia. Can you tell me why you're afraid of them?" The patient stayed silent for another moment, and said quietly, "In the hellhole St. Petersburg Home for Boys… We had to get hit with a needle and go to sleep and not wake up if we were in there for more than 10 years. My friend, Yuri… I never saw him again."

I was horrified at what I heard right then. The idea of… a human Pound… is disgusting. I told him, "We won't hurt you here. I won't let it happen, okay?" he asked, "On your life?" and I answered, "On my life." I smiled and finalized, "Then we can help you. Right now we have to run a few blood tests. We need to give you a shot. It will only hurt for a second, and then it will be over, okay?" The patient reluctantly nodded.

And on with the testing, we went.

**Soo, how was it? Lemme know!**

**DISCLAIMER- I OWN NOTHING LISTED IN THIS STORY.**

**~pugswanthugs~**


	7. News

A man exits a store with nothing in hand; there were no items that grasped his attention that day. Until, at least, he spies a magazine. _Global Inquirer _the top of it says. Standing there are two people; One, a woman, with black curly hair, and another standing next to her; male this time, he was tall with black hair and green eyes. His hair was slightly overgrown and spiky. It hung across his face idly, though it seemed as it was gelled down. The boy wore a dress shirt-red- with a black tie hanging loosely around his neck with black trousers. He seems to be itching to run from the cameras that buffet him.

The woman is smiling, and the boy has a blank expression on his face, but his body language says as if he were tensed. He is buff, I suppose, for someone his age, but still manages to look average in his facade of expressionlessness. They both stand behind a large buisness-graffiti'd background, with the name of a hospital and other various franchises covering it.

The woman stands next to the boy, and had a certificate of some sort faces at the camera. He can bleakly manage something about adoption, but the large yellow 'PENDING' stamp gets in the way.

The large print in the headline says, _'Fighter to be a son? Sergei Menchovik to be adopted by big-shot Dean of Medicine in Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. More on page 7...' _

The man is outraged; he pulls out change and throws it at the clerk before storming off with the paper in hand. Why, you ask?

The man is Sergei's coach.

* * *

><p><strong>Wowwwww, so that was pathetically short... I just didn't think it was appropriate to transistion to another setting. I'll update reallyyyyy soon though, promise, guys.<strong>

**~pugswanthugs~**


	8. Escape

Cuddy stood in her son's new room, painting the walls blue. She was totally oblivious to the upsetness of Sergei, who was now banned from fighting, as she had decided it was unhealthy and dangerous.

_Mothers, _Sergei thought angrily as he stared at the TV, watching the reporters rave on how he was out of the ring for good, _Always out for the 'best' of their children... _

A memory popped up into his head, the same one that haunted him every night when he closed his eyes.

"_SERGEI!" _A woman's voice screamed as the car door folded inward and decapitated her.

He gasped, still unused to this scene that had terrorized him for the past six and a half years. He narrowed his eyes, reliving the scene afterwards. The first night at the Moscow Home For Boys. The first thing that happened to him was getting dragged away from the scene by the police, him weeping over their bodies. Then the endless hours at the Social Office, the white car pulling up to him, the fate he was doomed to. The next three years were full of suffering. Nothing but endless screams in the night and tears and blood. Finally, the day Alexi saved him.

_Do not fear them; For they do not understand whom you are destined to become, _The brown haired man said as he got him a glass of hot chocolate at the local coffee shop, _You are stronger than them, Sergei. They did not struggle as you did, they did not feel pain like you did, and they did not become stronger like you did._

The truth was, that Sergei was no better than those rich boys. At least for the first eight years of his life. Afterwards he had to stick up for himself.

Sergei didn't realize what had happened until he stared at the broken remote he held in his hand.

"Dem," He muttered in a terrible American accent. He barely knew how to say hello in English, but only knew swear words from the ring after fighting Americans and hearing their cries of pain.

He watched as the cracked plastic dug into his skin, crimson blood seeping through the broken remote. He shrugged; Nothing that bad. He'd faced worse the other night, and that was from a minor opponent. A concussion was no big deal, much less a television remote cutting his hand.

He set the cracked equipment on the table, and stood up. Walking over to the window, his phone rang. A familiar name was on the contact ID, so Sergei answered it immediately.

"Da?"

"Sergei, where are you?" His coach's voice said angrily.

"I've been put in home vith lady Lisa Cuddy." he said quickly, ferverently hoping that she didn't hear his escape plan.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Get your stuff together, there's a fight tonight."

"Yes, sir." He said quickly and flipped his phone shut as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He shoved the phone in his pocket and faced her.

"You room's done." She grinned.

He nodded in fake excitement, secretely shoving his Ring ID in his pocket. He followed her into the light blue room. It was okay- for a nine year old. There were trucks on the wall, and a poster of Mickey Mouse on the wall.

He grinned, surpressing the look of disgust. His room would be black with Black Veil Brides posters, not baby blue with Disney characters.

"I hope you like it," She said,

"I do," He lied,

She didn't know what else to say, so left him alone to go make dinner. His phone vibrated, and the text from his coach said, "coming down st b there soon gt rdy"

He slid it closed and opened the window. Landing swiftly on the grass, he hid in the bushes under the kitchen window until the black Rolls Royce parked four houses down. It was the signal. They always did that- to avoid paparazzi, news reporters, and in this case, "mothers".

He swiftly ran down and hopped in. He nodded to his English coach and they zoomed off towards the airport.


	9. Powerless

Lisa Cuddy had just finished preparing dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, when she stepped in her new son's room.

"Sergei, I made you dinner-" She started, but stopped in mid speech after realizing what an open window meant.

She sprinted out the door in time to see the last moments of a black Rolls Royce turning down her street. She grabbed her keys and trailed them.

Dialing 911 on her phone, she told the operator that her son was being taken by someone. They were in a black Rolls Royce. The operator sent cruisers to help her, but that's all she could do; Cuddy hadn't caught a plate number. The Royce quickly got too far away from her, they had ran a few red lights.

Lisa was in hysterics; she barely had a son for two hours and had lost him.

* * *

><p>They quickly boarded the Menchovik Inc. Jet and were off towards New York City.<p>

Sergei was now fully healed from his major concussion and was prepared to fight. He had gone over his opponent's stats, and was about to enter the ring when his coach caught him by the arm.

"Hey, you alright? You don't seem the same..."

"It's nothing," He muttered and entered the elevator that would bring him up to the cage.

The crowd cheered his name as he shook hands with his opponent, who was actually a close friend from the last Draft. They had spent the hours together playing XBOX Together, waiting to see who got which manager.

He took his postistion and waited for the Tapout ref to blow the whistle.

Right hook, dodge, jump kick, headbutt, He thought to himself, Leg sweep!

The opponent keeled over, and the ref slowly counted,

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! Knock out!"

His arm was raised and he left the cage, giving hi fives to the burly guys watching the match.

"Didn't some doctor chick adopt you?" One asked,

"She thought she did," He said in Russian to his coach/translator, "But she obviously doesn't know me."

He was whisked off to an afterparty after getting bandaged up from the broken finger he sustained, and got many pats on the back from his friends that came to watch.

"Sergei! Nice job, dude, you're second in the AAAA League!" One of his old friends congratulated,

"Thanks! You're not doin' to shabby yourself, my friend."

The party lasted for a few hours until there was a bang on the penthouse door. Sergei opened it to the cops and his 'mother'.

"Young man, did you seriously leave the house to go to a _party?" _

"No, I left the house because I don't live there." He snapped back, hitting the security button on his watch, his hands behind his back.

The cops left after making sure that Cuddy found her 'son', but all wasn't good yet. She tried to rant at him, but his giant guards stood in front of him.

"I'll leave Brutus and Franco to you, I wouldn't want to dirty my new suit." He said cooly, gesturing to his silk blazer he got from an obsessed fan.

The took a step forward to remove the uninvited guest, but she protested, "That is my son, and you will not stop me from taking him back into my custody!"

The guards looked to him, "Is she, sir?"

His expression hardened, "In her universe, but it's a whole new league when she's in my territory."

The guards pushed her out of the doorway, and shut the bulletproof door, locking the deadbolt right after.

"Thank you, friends. Go rest, you deserve a cold Smirnoff." He relieved the guards, temporarily, and went back to his party.

His coach came up to him, "You know how that crazy woman had custody of you?"

"Da."

"Well I'm going to outbit her for the warrant. If I'm your 'father' then you won't need to worry about her chasing you over the world."

Coach Williamson was Sergei's favorite coach besides Alexi, "Of course, sir!"

"Great," He grinned his usual fatherly grin, "We'll be legal family in a month."

The question was legal family better than true family?


	10. Unexpected Help, and IMPORTANT AN

"You've got to be crazy," Cuddy demanded, "Are you seriously _auctioning _my son?"

"Ma'am, we have no choice. Mr. Menchovik's coach has placed a bid for custody of him. We have no choice," The social worker said, behind her desk,

"But this is violation to my rights as a parent!" She pleaded.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid this trial is inevitable. Besides, if you think you're good enough of a parent, then you _should _win this, right?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

Cuddy was outraged. In a huff, she stormed out the door to go to her lawyer's office.

* * *

><p>House paced in his office, twirling his cane absentmindedly. A knock at his door brought him back to reality. His boss, Lisa Cuddy, stood outside the glass. He sighed and waved her in. She entered, and collapsed in a chair.<p>

"House, I don't know what to do," She half sobbed, tears threatening to betray her,

"Well why are you asking me?" House demanded.

"You're the last person I want to ask, House," She choked, "But I don't know who else would know what to do!"

"So, what you're trying to say is, that you look up to me?" He mocked, his eyes glinting,

"House, _not _today," Cuddy growled,

"Rigghhttt," He sighed, elongating the word,

"What do I do?" She asked,

"You never told me the problem?" He shot back,

"HOUSE!"

"Alright, alright, so what did the social worker say?"

"She said that she had no choice for a trial at Family Court," She sobbed, "And I just don't know what to do. House- House, I'm going to lose him!"

"Calm down," he mumbled, "I'll find something out to help, but in return, for me-"

"You're _seriously _asking me for a favor?" she said, bewildered.

"Yep,"

"Fine, what to you want?" she sighed,

"Fifty hours off clinic duty," He grinned a rare grin,

"Fine," she spat back, "Just- Just help me."

"So who's the guy that you're against?"

"Williamson," She cried, "Coach Williamson,"

"Alright," He said, "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p><strong>Bad news, guys and girls. I have pneumonia and bronchitis. Soo I won't be updating for a week or two. I'm really sorry right now, but I feel like (shit) right now, and I have a migraine. I'm really sorry. By the way, I'm stalling right now with the plot- care to help? I could really use suggestions for what to write next time. Just review or Private Message me. <strong>

**~pugswanthugs**


	11. Pneumonia Sucks

**Ohhhkayy... I have bad news- I've got bronchitis and pneumonia... so I won't be updating for a while. I currently feel like **** and have a migraine, but you readers are important to me, so I had to let you know I can't write for a while. I will miss you! And if you have any ideas, suggestions, OC submissions (If this isn't an OC story, then ignore that last part, I'm writing one A/N for all of my stories) or other notes, feel free to review or Private Message. I'm really sorry to be sick, guys, but I hope to see you soon.**

**~pugswanthugs**


	12. Trouble!

Sergei grogilly came back to earth on a black leather recliner.

"Too much happyjuice, my friend," An unmistakeable voice said,

When things were into focus, he swore he saw his father. The real one.

"Wha-" He said, blinking. Nope, just his coach. "Oh."

"Let's go. If you're going to drink like a man, you're gonna fight like a man, too."

They drove over to the training center and began.

"Let's go, kid," He yelled,

He was too woozy and nauseous to do this, he thought, but he had no choice.

They sparred for a short amount of time, but soon Sergei retched, the smell of alcohol stinking up the room.

"No more of this partying," Coach Williamson scolded, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir,"

* * *

><p><strong>So... I'm kind of busy... I made my school's writing team, and for the time being am getting ready for the regional competition... so I'm going to be kind of on and off on fanfiction for a month... so anyways, this is a filler... again... sorry. But, I've got some serious WB on this story... so help... please...<strong>

**Pugs**


	13. Faith Restored

Cuddy stormed home from the penthouse she had caught Sergei drunk at.

Sergei- a sixteen year old, drunk. Sergei- her son, her responsibility- incoherent. Fighting. Rebellious.

She passed endless streetlights, not even watching, not even caring which direction or way she went. She felt like she was a rat in a maze, watched and observed by some great outer force, pushed to the limit, stuck, hopeless. She eventually reached a dead end, and turned swiftly to go back to her car. An arm abruptly grabbed the trails of her coat.

"Wha-" she said hoarsely through thick tears. Another arm flashed through the streetlight, grabbing her hair. A dark-lit face peered at her rudely, examining her. He ripped off her jacket, covering her mouth.

Out of nowhere, a dark shadow shifted from more shadow, ghosting through her attacker, just about to yank her shirt off.

"You have made a grave mistake," A low accented voice growled, and flew at the shadow,

The attacker pulled a shiny object from his back pocket, stabbing at the ghost.

The shadow spun, kicking the knife from the thug's hand and subsequently kicking him in the face with the other foot. He landed lightly, watching his opponent fall, coughing. The thug was picked up, punched in the face and thrown in the dumpster. Through all of this his white sweatshirt's hood fell down, revealing an extremely recognizable pair of eyes and shaggy hair.

"Ser-" Cuddy sobbed,

"Shh," Sergei muttered, pulling his hood back up, reclining into the shadows.

And like that, he was gone.


End file.
